Enthralled
by iwasthequeen
Summary: (enthralled: to hold spellbound; captivate, to enslave) AU. What if, Emma hadn't gone to jail? What if, she had kept Henry? How will our Evil Queen fair when a blonde and her son stumble upon her town? Rating may change.
1. The Build Up

_**A/N:**_** So, the inspiration struck me for this a few weeks ago and I haven't had the time to expand on it until now. And when inspiration strikes, reigning it in is not the best idea. Please note: I am in final year of high school and as such, updates will no doubt be sporadic. That is to say, I may upload day after day and then there may be a gap. Just letting you all know now. As such - This is an AU 'What if?' story, in which 'What if Emma hadn't gone to jail? What if - she had kept Henry?'. No doubt the character's may seem quite OOC at times, please do not attack me over this. Also take note: I am an avid Evil Regal. Regina is and always will be my favourite character. As such, it may seem like I am favouring her. I probably am.**

**Chapter 1: The Build Up**

_**enthralled, past particle, past tense of en-thrall (verb)**_

_verb:_  
_- to hold spellbound; captivate_  
_- to enslave_

For as long as she could remember, Emma Swan had been alone. Her entire life was just an endless abyss of loneliness, of isolation. Rarely did she let herself get close to anyone, nor let anyone get close to her. She was, after all, unwanted. When she was younger, still a part of the foster care system and still forced in to the dreaded line-up, Emma believed in fairytales. In happy endings. It wasn't until she was a teenager, still forced to stand in that line with the younger children who still had a _chance_, that Emma stopped believing.

Fairytales were just that.

Fairytales.

Being passed over constantly, being handed back after only weeks, being rejected and criticised, took a toll on the young blonde, and she would never forget those days. Even during those weeks she spent sleeping in a box outside some dingy restaurant, after she'd finally left the hell-hole she'd called 'house' for eighteen years, give or take a few months. Curled up in a ball, blocking out the sounds of street rats and passing cars, Emma would remember.

She would remember the creaky floorboards outside her bedroom, the small portions of food, the jabbing of tiny elbows and knocked knees. The foster house she had lived in didn't have much funding, there were at least twenty kids at one time, and only two guardians to look after them all. Most left quickly, the cute ones with the big smiles and hopeful eyes. Emma had been there the longest. Brought in as a newborn, a boy holding her in his small little arms. She never met that boy, for he disappeared just a few weeks after they arrived. Emma had always wondered -

'_Who are you?'_

- Her questions usually went unanswered, and she had little to remember him by. For eighteen years, Emma had questioned, and for eighteen years, Emma had waited. She was usually passed over. Her normally dirty-blonde hair rarely brushed properly, her baggy clothes and fixed stare, was usually a put off for the families that wandered through. It wasn't Emma's fault. She had just been in the business for too long.

And it _was_ a business.

There were those in charge. The government appointed guardians that maintained the house, and the kids that resided there. Then there were the clients. The parents looking to start or expand their families, their own business'. And then, there were the employers. The kids. The ones who kept the house alive, or as alive as it could be. At eighteen years old, Emma had been Senior Manager. She knew the house, knew the rules, knew the system, like she knew the back of her hand.

That wasn't to say she hadn't been let loose a couple of times. She'd had four families throughout her life. One sent her back because they decided they couldn't handle a baby, it was too early for them and they weren't as prepared as they thought. Another sent her back because the mother had gotten pregnant. Emma was four and threw a tantrum, hiding under the bed until the father had to crawl under and pull her out, quite literally kicking and screaming. The third family had her taken from them, when it was made abundantly clear they only wanted the paycheck that came with her, not her herself. The fourth family - Emma had run from. Twelve years old, and she'd snuck out the back window. It wasn't that they were abusive, just that they were inattentive. She'd gone three days once without dinner, because the last time she'd tried to cook herself she'd burnt her arm on the grill.

This was why Emma hated to cook. This was why Emma knew the system. This was why Emma didn't care.

Fairytales were something children believed in. The idea that everything would resolve itself, with a kiss and a wedding and the words '_they lived happily ever after_'. Emma didn't believe in them.

Until Henry.

Eighteen years old, finally free from the clutches of the system, Emma had packed her bag and walked out the front door, barely a glance behind her. She simply strolled through the gate and walked on, down the street, until she couldn't walk anymore. Luckily, she had a good friend she'd met whilst stealing small bars of chocolate from the corner shop two streets away. Neal, a boy who seemed to know a lot about running.

At first, running was perfect. She had all that she needed, even if it wasn't what she wanted. Neal was nice, he looked after on the streets and she did love him. Perhaps was even _in_ love with him. But driving from state to state, stealing food and - keychains - was not the life she wanted. She wanted to be happy, and she was only - content.

When she found out she was pregnant, Emma sat on the bathroom floor of some motel Neal and her had broken in to. Climbing through the window and pretending it was still empty, that the room wasn't occupied. She sat on the tile floor, the stolen pregnancy test in one hand and an unopened bottle of scotch in another, also stolen. She had denied it, unable to believe that she had recklessly allowed this to happen. They'd stolen a box of tissues, for gods sake, why hadn't they stolen a box of condoms?

The denial was soon replaced by elation. She could finally have a family. A child to love like she hadn't been, and Neal. But that elation was soon replaced by resignation. There was no way that she, and consequently Neal, could raise a baby the way they were living. It would be impossible, and unfair. Especially to the baby. So, what did she do? Either she could find a way to better their lives, or she -

No. She wouldn't consider _that_. She would have to talk to Neal, most definitely. Before she decided anything.

As it had turned out, she never got a chance to tell him. Neal hadn't returned to the motel that night, nor the night after. Emma had climbed in to the yellow bug they'd stolen, driving around the town they'd crashed in. She'd found where he'd hung out, a friend he'd had at the time agreeing to help him find a good place to raid for food. Nick, as it turned out, knew where Neal was. Or rather wasn't.

Neal had run off, leaving Emma alone, broke, and pregnant.

At first, Emma had considered adoption. Giving the baby up. But she'd thought, long and hard, about the life her child could lead. She'd already lived it, the system, remember? She couldn't do that. She couldn't condemn her own child to the life she had had forced upon her. So - she tried.

Being so young, and being pregnant, did seem to have it's perks. She'd managed to scored herself a job waitressing at a diner just out of Talhasse, the place she and Neal had been heading for. It wasn't a very good paying job, but it was a job. That's all that mattered. And she'd made some friends. Joey, the cook. He flipped the food and called out corny jokes through the window the food would sit, waiting for girls like her to pick them up and cart them off to some passing-through customer. Jenny, a red-head older woman with a scratchy voice but never stopped smiling. She had been the one to offer Emma the job, the eighteen year old blonde having huddled herself and her three month showing belly in a booth in the corner of the diner. Two hours and a plate of pancakes later, Emma had a job and a place to sleep, the loft above the diner was free, so long as Emma worked off the rent.

Everything was - fine. Not perfect, but fine. Stable income, stable home - then Henry came.

Fourteen hours in labour, curse words she didn't even know she knew, and a tight hold on Jenny's hand - Henry Swan came screaming in to the world. For a split second, Emma saw light. Held in her arms, fitting just right, Emma was happy. Henry could be her _'happily ever after_' - Henry was all she'd need.

And then -

Emma met _her_.

**A/N: As you may have noticed, this was a 'Build Up' to the beginning of our little story. The - 'prelude', if you will. **


	2. On The Road - Again

**A/N: Right. I wrote this quite literally half an hour after writing and posting the first chapter. This is what happens with me. I'll get inspired, write continuously, and then burn out at some point. This is why I'm limiting my uploads. So then at least I have _something_ to give you all. Anyway, I realise this story will be going along quite slowly. I would like to build the plot instead of just rushing in to things. So, hopefully this'll work out nicely for everyone. Oh, and as I forgot in the first chapter:**

**Disclaimer: Once Upon A Time is not my own creation, I do not own it nor any recognisable characters. I am, however, tempted to steal the rights from Adam and Eddy and write a nice and happy episode/ending for my Queen. Bitches, don't mess with the Evil Regals. Mama Regal's got a Papa Regal now, we've got a full amada. **

**Or rather aka, as I didn't mention before, Congrats to Lana and Fred. I hope he realises he has now inherited Lana's ER Family. Good luck with that buddy. Good luck indeed.**

**Chapter 2: On The Road - Again**

"Mom."

"Mom!"

"_Mom!_"

Emma jerked awake, eyes opening wide before narrowing, her hand lifting to shield herself from the sunlight trickling in through the open windows. Collapsing on to her stomach, she groaned softly, moving to bury her head under her pillow. "Mom! Come on, we'll be late!" Sighing to herself, she turned her head and opened her eyes, peaking out from under her pillow at the tuft of hair barely visible, lowering to the floor as she blinked. _'What the?_' Emma shifted, crawling along the bed to lean over the edge, hair falling to hang limply as she watched her son crawling along the floor. "What're you doing kid?"

Henry glanced up, grinning widely as he reached the other end. "Making sure we packed everything, duh." As he crawled through to the other edge, Emma sat up, dragging the covers around her waist and hauling it over her shoulder's, desperate to retain what warmth she could. "Duh." She repeated, mockingly slapping her own forehead as if she should have known the answer to her own question.

She probably should have.

Henry, despite being only ten years old and despite being _her_ son, was relatively anal about everything. He was an early riser, something Emma had learnt within a few weeks of his birth. He was a stickler for cleanliness, which when she thought about it, was probably a good thing. She - well, she wasn't. At least she could cook. She had that going for her, right? All those years in the diner - she had to have learnt something from Joey.

Emma sighed as Henry stood, gripping the duvet in his hands and tugging forcefully. "Come on Mom, you promised." The blonde grimaced, the whine in her son's voice far too loud in her head at - Turning, Emma groaned again.

6:14am

"Did'ya have to wake me this early?" She whined in response, falling back against the mattress as Henry climbed up the bed, kneeling at her side and bouncing slightly, poking her in her stomach. "Yep. You promised we'd go _real_ early in the morning - so we'd make it there on time."

"We've got all week to get to New York." Protesting was something Emma was more than adept at, and unfortunately, something Henry had picked up from his mother. "But the sooner we're there, the sooner we can explore!" Emma side, eyes closing as she waved her hand in the air. "Alright, okay, I'm up - Go flick the kettle on. If we're going so soon, I want a coffee." Henry grinned, slipping to the side of the bed and launching himself off, landing with a stumble as he ran forward. "Too much energy in that kid." Emma muttered, rolling on to her stomach and pushing herself up on to her knees, glancing around her room as she combed her fingers through her hair.

Nearly three years Emma and Henry had lived here. The longest run since the diner, and Henry'd only been there for three himself. She ran her eyes over the walls, the furniture - all her things were packed, everything she was taking with her. Sliding from the bed, she moved to the window, leaning against the wall with her palm as she folded one arm around her stomach. Boston had been their home for three years.

It was about time they found a new one.

It wasn't so much that they were forced to move. They weren't kicked out, they weren't uncomfortable. Running was just something Emma was used to. And something Henry had inherited. What they were running from, she wasn't sure anymore. No one would be looking for them, they never were and it's not like she'd caused trouble. She hadn't had a run in with the law or rather lack-thereof since she was eighteen. Running was just too familiar for them.

At least they always had somewhere to run to.

Padding down the hall, Emma slipped in to the kitchen and poured the hot water in to the mug sitting on the bench. Henry always knew how she liked her coffee, but he never made it himself. He wasn't allowed. She turned around, pressing her lower back against the kitchen bench and lifted the mug to her lips, smiling softly as Henry attempted to pour juice in to a paper cup. Rolling her eyes, she placed her mug on the bench and stepped forward, taking the juice from his hands and grinning. "Come on kid, I got it."

Henry smiled up at her, teeth shining and Emma narrowed her eyes, bending down to stare at his mouth. "Did you brush your teeth already?" His lips clamped shut and he hummed a negative, Emma nodding unconvinced as she straightened and poured his juice. "Yep, sure you didn't. Y'know - the juice'd taste real funny with brushed teeth." An offhanded remark that curved her lips, Emma turned and wandered back across the kitchen floor, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see Henry grimace, place the cup back on the table and push it away as best he could. Smirking as she downed what was left of her coffee, she flicked her hands up, shooing her son away from the table. "Alright, I'll get changed, then we can go."

Henry grinned, a rendition of 'Yes!' repeating from his lips as he jumped up and down, punching the air. "You look so cliché right now kid." Emma drawled, ruffling his hair as she passed and slipping through the door to her soon-to-be-not-her's room. Sighing to herself, she shimmied her pyjama pants down her legs and kicked them away, dragging her tank top over her head and dropping it on top of the growing pile pooling at her feet. Rolling her shoulder's, palms kneading the muscles that tensed there, she rooted through the untaped box and pulled out a pair of jeans and another tank top. Re-dressing, she threw her pyjamas in the box and quickly taped it closed, grabbing her leather jacket from the edge of her bed and slipping it on. Lifting the box with a groan, she grabbed the duvet and threw it over the top, balancing the load in her hands as she backed out of her room and called for her son.

"Henry!? Kid, come help me out!"

"But you're handlin' them so well."

Emma dropped the box lower, lifting her head and glaring playfully at her smirking son. "Oi! Help your mother out or I'll - ban you from - Just help me out." Henry grinned, shrugging his shoulder's as he readjusted his backpack on his shoulders and grabbed the blanket, scrunching it up under his arm. "Come on Mom! Let's go!" Henry ran forward, pulling the front door open with a grin as he disappeared around the corner. "See ya Mister Flo!" He called, his voice drifting down the hall to Emma, struggling with the keys to close and lock the door behind her. "I got it Emma, you go ahead."

The blonde turned, smiling in thanks to her now former landlord, Mr Ivan Florence. "Thanks Flo." She smiled, juggling the box on one hand as she lifted the other and clasped his shoulder. "For everything."

"Take care Em."

Smiling, Emma took a deep breath and moved to follow Henry down the stairs, one last glance shot over her shoulder as Ivan closed the door firmly, clicking the lock in place.

**XxX**

"_Shit_"

"Mom!"

Emma cringed, unbuckling her seatbelt as she moved to open her door. "Sorry kid. Stay here, okay?" Not waiting for an answer, Emma slammed the door of her yellow bug and rounded the car, leaning against the bonnet with a sigh. Lifting the hood, she coughed as smoke pilfered the air and made her eyes water. "Fucking fantastic." She muttered, moving to twist a cap and reeling back, hissing softly as the heat burnt her hand. "Dammit!" She slammed the hood down, kicking her front tire as she opened the door and collapsed in the driver's seat, door hanging open and feet tapping against the asphalt.

"What do we do now?"

Head falling back, she stared at her son upside down as she sighed once again, sitting up and moving her legs in to the car. "No idea."

It was silent for moments, Emma tapping the steering wheel with her fingers as Henry glanced around, a book open in his lap. "Maybe another car'll come through." Emma smiled awkwardly, twisting in her seat to stare down the direction they'd come, and the direction they were heading. All that surrounded them were forest, trees and nothing but - nothingness. "I - don't think that's gonna happen anytime soon kid."

Henry nodded, sinking in his seat as he glanced over their surroundings. It _was_ rather isolate. Nothing like Boston. His eyes scanned the horizon, and he frowned. Sitting straighter, he leant forward and pointed. "Hey Mom, what's that?" Emma looked up, narrowing her eyes as she shook her head. "No idea." Glancing to her son, she rose a brow and grinned. "Wanna check it out?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically, smiling as he undid her seatbelt and opened the door. "What do we do about the car?" He asked as he closed the door, mimicking his mother. "Lock it, leave it. I'll come get it later, depending on what we find." Holding out her hand as she rounded the car once again, Henry ran forward and slipped his hand in to hers, swinging their arms as they strode towards what - now that they were getting closer - appeared to be a sign.

Coming to stop at the wooden structure, Emma turned and squinted, the yellow bug a small vision down the road. "Welcome to - Storybrooke?" Emma turned back, smiling down at Henry with a nod. "Must be a town or something. Funny, it wasn't on the map." The blonde, pursing her lips in a thoughtful smile as she shrugged and nudged her son forwards. "Come on, we'll find either someone to fix the car, or somewhere to stay for the night."

The walk was quiet, Henry taking in the scenery and Emma simply thinking. It was getting dark, and she wasn't comfortable with driving through the night. Not with Henry in the car. Whether there was someone who could fix the car or not, they'd have to find somewhere to stay in this 'Storybrooke', ridiculous name regardless. As they passed the sign, a buzz filled the air and a shimmer of purple glistened in the declining night. All went unnoticed by the town's two newest residents.

**A/N: See, told you a slow build up. What? Did you think Regina would be in this chapter? Oh no. She may make an appearance next chapter, but nope. You'll see our Queen in all her regal glory come chapter four.**


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